You Are Unstoppable
by Trumpet-Geek
Summary: [misawa, yuri on ice au] He hears Wakana gasp -the noise echoes through the rink, silent but for the scrape of his blades against the ice and the sound of his measured breaths. She recognizes the routine. (May be updated with more if the muse strikes.)
1. episode 1

**You Are Unstoppable**

 _By_ : TG

 _Summary_ : He hears Wakana gasp -the noise echoes through the rink, silent but for the scrape of his blades against the ice and the sound of his measured breaths. She recognizes the routine.

Disclaimer: I don't own daiya or yuri on ice

Warnings: alternate universe -yuri on ice, pre-relationship

AN: this is for cutiepiehinata on tumblr/ao3 for the daiya hols exchange!

* * *

"With a combined score of 189.67 it looks like Sawamura Eijun will miss the podium in this year's Cup of China and subsequently will not make it into the Grand Prix Final."

"How could he have done so badly? I'm sure there were plenty of alternates who would have jumped at the chance to compete in his place."

"That's too bad, he came into the Grand Prix series with so much promise."

"He should just retire already."

Eijun grits his teeth and hunches a little further over his phone and lets the first tears fall onto the bathroom floor. Chris-senpai had told him not to look at the news after his lackluster free skate program but he had to know. The words of strangers only confirmed what he'd already known walking out of the kiss-and-cry.

He'd failed.

* * *

"Oi." 

Eijun jerks, surprised at the sound of a voice he's not sure he wants to hear. Miyuki Kazuya stands just ahead, hip cocked and lips stretched into his patented cocksure grin. It's almost like Eijun's staring at one of the many posters that line the walls of his room back home in Nagano, except, much to his chagrin, the real thing is much more handsome. Despite his slightly disheveled appearance, and despite the tiredness that shows in the corners of his eyes, Miyuki cuts a gorgeous figure. 

And the fact that he's standing there and looking like that at Eijun is – well . 

Warmth creeps over his cheeks and he gets the urge to duck his head, which he roundly ignores. Instead he holds his head up high and looks his rival in the face, because he and Miyuki have just competed –the Grand Prix Final, one of the stepping stones to Worlds, to Four Continents, to more , something Eijun's been chasing after and dreaming of since he began following Miyuki's career more than a decade ago. Miyuki's grace on the ice and beautifully choreographed routines were the reasons Eijun had laced up his first pair of ice skates. He's kept every newspaper clipping and spent every waking moment boasting loudly and resolutely that someday, somehow, he would take to the same ice as the legendary Miyuki Kazuya and they would compete as equals. 

And here he is, looking at Eijun with a mischievous glint in his eye that no poster could possibly replicate, and Eijun's stomach twists up in knots. Despite his poor performance, Miyuki Kazuya is looking at him , for the first time; it's a moment suspended in time, like the grasping of a dream in the time between sleeping and waking. 

Miyuki's grin softens, and Eijun's heart beats beats beats, and he opens his mouth – 

"Commemorative photo?" 

-and he falters, because Miyuki is speaking to him like he's –well, like he's a fan. Like he's nothing. Like the last season of work and sweat and hope and heartbreak and waking up at four in the morning for practice hadn't happened –like they'd been erased. 

Eijun had just shared the same ice, the same press conferences, the same hotels as the man in front of him, but –he'd failed, hadn't he. He'd failed, so what right does he have to expect Miyuki to notice him when all he does is fall and under-rotate and step out –when all he does is spend his kiss-and-crys staring vacantly at his skates because he's too disappointed in himself to look at the numbers on the screen? 

Eijun can't stop the stiffening of his shoulders any more than he can stop the heat of the shame from flooding his cheeks, and that in itself is humiliating enough. 

"Eijun?" 

Eijun had made gold at the Grand Prix Final his goal, and tonight he'd had to watch that chance go to someone else. What reason does Miyuki have to look past the podium and see him?

Chris-senpai reaches out to touch his arm, but Eijun puts his head down and shifts away. Out of the corner of his eye he sees him try to follow, but instead he pauses, his handsome face troubled but thoughtful, and for that Eijun is grateful. He turns his back on him and on Miyuki and on the reporters clamoring for answers on the subject of his retirement. He doesn't want the comfort or the questions –he just wants to be left alone with the feeling of growing disappointment. Later he will think about how to get better, stronger; tonight is for recovery, but tomorrow is for change.

He walks out of the rink with his back straight and his eyes staring straight ahead, and misses the considering sweep of brown eyes as he leaves. 

* * *

Kuramochi shifts at his side, but Kazuya's eyes remain focused on the kid's back as he walks away from him and pushes out into the soft, snowy evening. Kuramochi always gets antsy at press conferences –it's something Kazuya has grown accustomed to since they've begun competing at the same level. Kuramochi is still new enough to the high-caliber, high-stress lifestyle, but for Kazuya it's just tiring –an adrenaline rush turned chore. 

He used to genuinely love it –the sounds, the smells, the furor of competition and the stillness of early morning practice. He'd been told from an early age that he was special, that he had the talent and the drive to win, so that's what he'd conditioned himself to do –to win, and keep on winning. There was a time not long ago that the acclaim and the applause had been a drug, an addiction, and he'd worked harder and harder for the high. 

But he's burning out, and he's been on the verge of something new and different for a while now. He doesn't know what that something is yet, but, watching the kid walk out with his back and shoulders straight, he thinks maybe he's almost got a grasp of it. 

Sawamura Eijun has something special, too, but unlike Kazuya he's probably never known it.

Kuramochi mumbles something under his breath –probably rehearsing what he's going to say to the press in a few moments –but Kazuya ignores him. He's busy compiling an image of Sawamura Eijun in his mind –of his long thin fingers and the way they'd curved so delicately toward the sky during his spins, and the arch of his back as he'd fallen into his Ina Bauer, and the power and passion he puts into his jumps. It's hard to reconcile the person he's known on the ice with the one who'd sat emotionless and empty in the kiss-and-cry.

But, well, there'd been a glimmer of that fire and fierceness in Sawamura's eyes just now, hadn't there? Isn't that interesting. 

He turns away from the place Sawamura had disappeared when their minders tell them it's time to go into the conference room and tries to ignore his friend's perceptive gaze. 

* * *

He hears Wakana gasp -the noise echoes through the rink, silent but for the scrape of his blades against the ice and the sound of his measured breaths. She recognizes the routine.

Eijun moves into a layback spin and thinks about how there's something beautiful and freeing about skating something that doesn't belong to him. Muscles which have long been stiff under the pressure of performance loosen up; the ice doesn't feel quite so alien as it had in the days after his failure.

He kicks his leg up in an death drop and in the precious moments where his blades don't touch the ice he feels more connected to it than ever. He's learned over the years that the ice is both an extension and a reflection of himself, and lately he hasn't been happy with what he's been seeing when he takes the time to look.

But now, here, skating to Miyuki Kazuya's free skate routine, he's without judgement, without pressure, without the ever-pressing need to be better faster strong perfect. It feels good , and he thinks that maybe, with time, he can recover that feeling of awe and reverence that used to fill him each time he passed through the doors of the rink. He's spent too long missing the comfort of home in the tough times that he's forgotten no matter where he goes ice and the scent of worn, cold leather always smell the same.

As much as his loss in Sochi had hurt, Eijun knows something had to give. He's spent enough time feeling guilty and angry and depressed.

Now it's time to be hungry. Now it's time to grow.

He just has to figure out how.

* * *

Kazuya gets a text message from Kuramochi just a few days after Worlds, consisting of just a link to a video and nothing else. Intrigued, he opens it to find Sawamura Eijun's face staring back at him.

The video is called 'Sawamura tries to skate Miyuki's free skate routine,' and in it Sawamura is beautiful. He's the boy that Kazuya remembers, all strength and grace and wild beauty, and he dances on his blades like his body is made of sunlight. The routine is Kazuya's –he could recognize the program even without the strains of music filtering through loudspeakers- but Sawamura's taken ownership of it. It's unrefined but perfect in its resonance, and Kazuya watches every flicker of earnest expression, every beautiful line and curve that Sawamura creates with his body, and thinks yes, this is what I'm missing. 

Sawamura smiles into the camera, and the expression is so bittersweet and full of feeling that Kazuya has to look away. His heart beats and his lungs fill with air and he feels more alive than he has in a long, long time, and Sawamura's routine ends –because it's Sawamura's now, it is –Kazuya tips his head back and laughs. 

His phone dings –another text from Kuramochi. 

dont stagnate , it says. grow . 

He pulls up his phone's contacts and types in his coach's number, but his finger pauses over the call button. He expected a hesitance or a moment of doubt between the precipice and the fall but there's only the pause –a short moment of acceptance, maybe, a brief burst of fear because what he's doing is ridiculous by all accounts – 

And then he finds that it doesn't matter. It's time to do something unexpected for once.

* * *

When Eijun's mother said he had a visitor, he'd been expecting Wakana, or Nobu, or maybe even Haruichi, coming to console him all the way from Detroit -

Instead he opens the door to Miyuki Kazuya.

His jaw drops and his face immediately bursts into flames. He's shocked, but perhaps it's not wholly unexpected considering Nobu had filmed him skating Miyuki's routine and posted it to YouTube. He should have figured the GPF winner wouldn't let it go.

Nerves give way to embarrassed anger and he points a finger right at that smug bastard's face and says, "what are you doing here?!"

Miyuki throws his head back and laughs for a long moment, and Eijun is left wondering if he's missed some punch-line.

"Would you believe it if I told you I'm here to be your coach?"

"I -what?"

Eijun's got so many questions. How did Miyuki find him? He vaguely remembers that Miyuki's friend Kuramochi hangs out with Harucchi's brother, but that doesn't answer why Miyuki's here, standing in the snow at his front door.

He must see the skepticism in his expression, because Miyuki drops the smirk and shrugs one-shouldered. Without his pretenses he looks kind of -

Pretty; young; nervous. Whatever .

"I saw the video," he says. Eijun waits for more -an explanation, an excuse, an accusation, anything -but nothing is forthcoming. Miyuki's pretty eyes meet his, and they say volumes, and for once Eijun feels seen .

"What do you say we slay next year's Grand Prix series together, partner?"

* * *

 _an_ : death drops and layback spins are cool. i also wanted miyuki's routine to have a hydroblade bc those are badass but in the end i didn't want to overload the story with moves so ye. follow trumpet-geek or katsukifatale on tumblr for more soft weebing.


	2. episode 2

**You Are Unstoppable**

 _By_ : TG

 _Summary_ : The first several weeks under Miyuki's tutelage are both paradise and hell, in turns, because Miyuki is a sadistic bastard who seems to enjoy getting under Eijun's skin.

Disclaimer: I don't own daiya or yuri on ice

Warnings: alternate universe -yuri on ice, pre-relationship

AN: decided to continue this au! it will follow the bones of the yuri on ice series but tailored to fit the daiya characters. pls expect ten more chapters!

* * *

Leaving his home rink behind isn't as difficult as he'd expected.

He doesn't bother to say goodbye to his rinkmates –not because he doesn't want to, but because his mind is full of Sawamura and his eyes are pinned to the unseen future. The first few days after watching that youtube video –after watching Sawamura occupy the space that had once belonged only to Miyuki, and own it in a way that still makes his heartbeat speed up even now- are full of preparations and packing and quiet conversations with Kataoka and Takashima behind closed doors. Then he buys his plane ticket, and makes arrangements to have his things sent over, and then –

And then he's gone, and it's only a two hour flight and a short taxi trip between him and the person who'd made him want to leave it all behind in the first place.

He's never been one for sentimentality anyway.

Kuramochi calls him while he's waiting for his luggage, tells him with quiet words how Maezono and Furuya had reacted when Kataoka told them of Kazuya's departure. He ends the call with a meaningful "take care of yourself," which leaves Kazuya staring at the 'call ended' screen until it turns white, and then black again, confused and trying to figure out what he meant.

* * *

The first several weeks under Miyuki's tutelage are both paradise and hell, in turns, because Miyuki is a sadistic bastard who seems to enjoy getting under Eijun's skin.

Its weeks before he's allowed on the ice at all, and Eijun finds himself missing the sounds and the smells of it almost desperately. Miyuki makes him run, makes him go to the gym. Doesn't have to make him go to ballet training with Chris-senpai though, that's the one thing besides being alone in a semi-dark rink in which he can find peace. Chris-senpai's voice calling out instruction and his gentle hands correcting his posture are familiar and warm, and he helps him stretch out his stiff muscles and ligaments. He's been unsure about everything except that he wants to keep moving forward, so he takes his renewed vigor and his desperation and puts it into building himself back up.

Eijun's not out of shape by any means, but once he's finally (finally) allowed back in the rink Miyuki still eyes him and finds his body lacking. He can't forget the way that penetrating stare had pinned him in place and made his knees wobble, or the way Miyuki's mouth had pulled down at the corners like he'd been hoping for something more than what he'd been given. Shame and irritation take up residence inside him, fueling every part and parcel of him as he grits his teeth and slogs through the ridiculous training menu he'd been given.

And Miyuki himself is a bit of a mystery -one moment he's all inscrutable stares and infuriating smirks that seem just this side of impersonal, and the next he's got his arm slung around Eijun's neck and a shit-eating grin pressed against the shell of Eijun's ear, and all Eijun can think in those moments is too close, too close -

And sometimes not close enough.

But there's something about having Miyuki's gaze fastened to him, pretty eyes always assessing, sometimes appreciative, never satisfied. It's a heady feeling, commanding that sort of attention from someone so all-encompassing in the sport. Miyuki practically defines figure skating; if Eijun were to open the dictionary he's pretty sure Miyuki's name would be listed there.

Figure skater. Noun. 1. An individual, pair, or group which dances on rinks made of ice. 2. Miyuki Kazuya.

Sometimes when Eijun's blades leave the ice on a jump he thinks he can fly supported on the unfurling wings of Miyuki's attention alone.

So he gets through it. He claws his way up with determination and grit and not a small amount of icy hot on sore muscles, through blood and sweat and bruises and a mire of failures, and Miyuki's gaze grows into something that holds warmth and light, slowly, like the turning of the leaves in autumn.

Somewhere between the weeks of teasing and perspiration and harsh critiques Eijun finds the fondness in Miyuki's smile and resolves to hold it with gentle hands.

* * *

"I noticed this earlier, but his form is a little sloppy, isn't it?" Kazuya muses, eyes following Sawamura around the rink as he runs through his warm ups. It's in the small details -the free leg that's a little too loose coming out of his jumps, the awkward positioning in some of his combination spins. He makes up for it with decent PC scores, because Sawamura is an emotional roller coaster of a skater, but with Kazuya at his back he can go even higher.

"He didn't have a coach," his friend steps up to the boards next to him and rests her small hands on the ledge. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, not judging so much as assessing his reaction. He's surprised -he is surprised, not just because Sawamura is an international athlete of caliber but because Sawamura isn't lacking.

Kazuya thinks of Sawamura practicing alone, lights dimmed and rink silent but for the scraping of his blades and his own harsh breaths. No one but himself and his friends to encourage him to keep trying, no one but himself and his friends to tell him what he did wrong and how to fix his mistakes. Kazuya's a bit of a loner but even he knows the value of a guiding hand, and he knows his ballet instructor won't be enough.

He glances down at his side at Sawamura's friend -at Wakana- and smiles. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her pretty mouth pulled down into an impressive frown. She looks like she is cataloguing all of Sawamura's mistakes, sharing in his frustration and his chase for perfection. Even without a coach Sawamura's done pretty well for himself it seems.

"He must have a strong will," he murmurs. His eyes are back on the rink by the time Wakana looks up at him, her face surprised. "And some good friends."

"He is the strongest person I know, but he puts a lot of pressure on himself, " she says quietly. "Nobu and I used to be his rinkmates, but he was always, I don't know, above and beyond I guess. He worked the hardest, trained the longest. Nobu and I had to quit, we both knew we couldn't go further, not like Eijun. I wonder if -"

"If?"

Wakana stays silent, thinking, but Kazuya doesn't really need her to finish her sentence. He's seen, both first-hand and through the eyes of his friends, what kind of person Sawamura is. He's loud and obnoxious and uncontainable -but he's also dedicated and diligent, a force of nature. He's loyal to a fault, fierce, and unafraid of challenge. Kazuya can already see the skeleton of a program forming, the bare bones of jumps and spins running through his mind.

"Well," he says lightly, "now he has me."

* * *

If he had idolized Miyuki before, Eijun is quickly coming to learn that Miyuki the living legend is wildly different from Miyuki the human being. But it's not a bad thing, and he's learning to let go of the expectation of perfection and embrace him as a flawed (very flawed) person.

On the ice Miyuki is a monster of a coach, nitpicking and making him run through exercises until he wonders if his socks will be crusty with blood by the time he's allowed to pry off his skates. It's no wonder Miyuki made his way to the top like this, because he's as dedicated as they come, hard-working and fully in love with the ice. He spends hours each day pushing and pushing and pushing, but Eijun answers his call with determination and a feral grin because all he's known are hours and hours of work and sweat and blistering skin. Miyuki makes him want to exceed.

Miyuki off the ice is infuriating and charming in turns. He spends a solid seventy percent of his time teasing Eijun into fits of near-hysteria for his own diabolical amusement. Sometimes Eijun wonders if having a five-time national champion for a coach is worth his mental health (or, on his darker days, if it's worth the potential cost in bail because sometimes Eijun just wants to wring his coach's neck). But then he'll catch Miyuki looking at him with that lopsided, genuine smile he wears when he thinks Eijun isn't paying attention and all of the tension shutters away, because despite what Wakana might think Eijun does know how to read between the lines.

Eijun finds himself wanting to show Miyuki around –to show him the sites of Eijun's childhood memories. He'd taken him to Zenkoji and Togakure Ninpo (and Kids Ninja Village, which the bastard makes fun of him for but he doesn't care because he beat Miyuki at throwing star shooting; he takes pictures of the humiliating defeat and posts them to instagram just because) and to his favorite ramen shop, and he'd watched as Miyuki slowly shed his mask of indifference.

There's something strange and sort of thrilling about letting his idol into his life in such an intimate way, and something equally strange and thrilling about getting to know Miyuki in return. That he's able to distinguish between Miyuki's smiles and laughs, that he can see that little wrinkle in the center of his brown and know instantly what he's thinking –it's a beautiful side effect of Miyuki always being at his side.

"Hey Miyuki, have you ever had katsudon?" He asks. His elbows are braced against the rink boards, toe pick digging into the ice. His mind isn't on his quad loops or Ina Bauers but on the look on Miyuki's face when Eijun had thrust the plush poodle he'd won at Kids Ninja Village into his hands.

"I have," his coach responds.

"Well, you haven't tried my mother's!"

The corner of Miyuki's lips quirk. "No, I guess I haven't."

Eijun hums in approval and pushes back onto the ice with renewed vigor. As annoying as Miyuki is, he knows that he wants to hold onto that feeling as long as possible.

* * *

As soon as Satoru sees the Instagram post he's on the shinkansen to Nagano.

When he arrives he realizes he has no idea where he is or how to start finding his wayward senpai, who has obviously made a mistake. Miyuki-senpai was supposed to help him choreograph his routine for this coming season, but has instead decided to run off on a whim to coach the guy who bombed the Grand Prix, and if that doesn't ignite the flame of competition in Satoru's chest –

Miyuki-senpai leaving without a word is unacceptable, not even senpais are allowed to go back on their promises.

He willfully ignores the fact that he has done the same thing, and when Kataoka and Takashima find out where he's gone and why he knows he's going to be given lots of running as punishment. The thought puts him out, but he's determined.

Satoru is brought out of his thoughts when he catches something out of the corner of his eye. There, hanging in in the opening of a street clothing stall is a black hoodie with a polar bear printed across the chest. It is possibly the coolest thing he's ever seen ever. He's amazed and delighted that Nagano has cool things like this, and he paws at his own jeans pockets for his wallet because he is going to buy it and everyone back in Tokyo is going to be jealous of his cool hoodie.

Pun totally intended.

A kindly old man smiles and takes his money and his picture in his new hoodie. He posts it on Instagram because how could he not, and for about ten minutes all is well until his phone rings and Kataoka's frighteningly quiet voice spills out of its speakers and he remembers why he is there.

He presses one hand to the polar bear on his hoodie, hoping that the animal's innate strength and wisdom and survival skills flow into him through osmosis, cups his free hand around his mouth, and calls for his senpai.

(He doesn't realize until a few minutes later that he'd just hung up on his coach and not even his new hoodie can stop the shiver of fear making its way down his spine).

Satoru needs a nap.

* * *

When Satoru finally finds the rink –because where else would Miyuki-senpai be if not there- he's nearly run over by a panting, out of breath, sweaty boy he vaguely recognizes as the one who caused his senpai to leave. He's still pretty tired from wandering around town all day dragging his luggage but perks up when he hears the boy muttering something about 'that four-eyes bastard.'

"Hey," he says. "You're the one who came in last at the Grand Prix Finals."

This appears to immediately grab the boy's attention, because his head shoots up and whips around and Satoru is treated to a furious golden glare and a snarling mouth.

"What did you just say?!"

"You came in last at –"

"I heard you the first time!" He shouts. "I mean what do you want? Are you here to spy on me? Gonna try to steal my program? Well I don't have one yet! So go away!"

"Noisy."

The boy balks. "Listen here –"

"What's taking so long, Sawamura? Did you get lost?" Miyuki-senpai pokes his head out, looking somehow both annoyed and amused simultaneously. His eyes land first on the boy who is apparently Sawamura and his expression softens just the slightest bit, but then his eyes are focusing on Satoru.

Satoru is kind of disappointed that he doesn't look the least bit surprised to see him there.

"I've come to bring you back, Miyuki-senpai," he says.

"WHAT?! No! You can't have him! He's mine!" Sawamura whines.

"Ahaha! I'm yours huh," Miyuki-senpai teases. Sawamura's face explodes in a blush. Satoru shifts his weight a bit, uncomfortable. Miyuki-senpai looks like he's become comfortable here –comfortable with Sawamura. But Satoru isn't one to give up so easily.

"Senpai, you promised to choreograph my routine," he reminds.

Miyuki-senpai's mind is lightning quick. He's good at cycling through possibilities and analyzing information; it's partly why he's so good at skating. His ability to put together routinely difficult and complex routines and adjusting for situational unknowns is one of the reasons Satoru moved from his home rink in Hokkaido to Tokyo –Miyuki-senpai is one of the best, and there's a lot to be gained from the benefit of his presence. Satoru isn't about to give up now.

"Ah, I did, didn't I." It's not a question, so Satoru waits. Sawamura windmills his arms and takes up more and more space beside him, angry and flustered. Miyuki-senpai is quiet while he contemplates the situation. A wolfish grin steals across his face when he hits on an idea he likes.

"I've got two programs I've been working on for next season. Obviously I won't be using those for myself, so what if we hold a little friendly competition? Winner gets to use me how he wants."

Sawamura's screech of indignation is background to Satoru's pleased hum. He's practically glowing beneath Miyuki-senpai's feral grin.

He's going to win.

* * *

 _an_ : follow trumpet-geek or katsukifatale on tumblr for more soft weebing.


End file.
